I’ve long believed the true measure of a person is taken by the quality of those s/he can rightly call “friends.” And if I’m correct, the friendship of Del Culver, Seth Benner, John Cornell, and Pat Adkins render me one of the most fortunate of souls.
I’m not even questioning the legitimacy of their actions, but did they really think that they could mount no less than an armed insurrection on a Wednesday and return to their families, jobs, bowling leagues, and life as normal on Thursday?
Words represent our most effective means of making sense of the world and of communicating a shared understanding of virtue, righteousness, morality, honor, etc. – and their unsavory opposites – to one another and especially our children.
Anyone who can read can read the letters that form the words and the words that form the sentences and sentences that form the paragraphs and the paragraphs that form the chapters and the chapters that form the novel, but only a true reader can read in the white space between the lines and the hidden spaces beneath them. It is in those wordless spaces that the treasure that is the meaning and purpose of a novel is often found.
When I’m gone, I want to leave something of more-than-physical value behind, and I don’t want anyone to remember me as that guy sitting endlessly in front of a television, iPad, or cell phone screen.
It’s with great ambivalence regarding the value of doing so and with a bit of trepidation as to how its motivations will be interpreted that I’d like to share the behind-the-scenes story of my current novel-in-progress.
The mere thought of making some of the changes necessary to get better causes me anxiety, but I guess at the end of the day, no matter our age, we are all W.I.P., or Works-in-Progress. What better time to begin making those changes than the Christmas Season and New Years?
Because no other media outlet has requested an interview with me since the release of my latest novel, Island No. 6, I decided to interview myself and to ask the types of questions that actually interest me rather than the typically banal ones interviewer’s tend to ask.
What I most like about the word quixotic is its attitude of tolerance and inclusiveness. It’s a word in which the oddball and often excluded letters “q” and “x” are not only included but necessary and celebrated. I often feel like a “q” or “x” myself. I think we all do.
In other words, leave the low-hanging, easily attainable fruit for the lazy others, and reach for the unattainable. In so doing, even if we fall short of our goal, we’re all likely to do and be more than we ever imagined possible.